Dante Must Die
by Deesig Fayt
Summary: It was the poof and not that sort of poof actually he wasn't too sure himself , that convinced him that maybe, just maybe, he was in over his head. HPDMC, Unspeakable! Harry vs. Dante.


Dante Must Die

**Summary:** It was the poof and not that sort of poof (actually he wasn't too sure himself), that convinced him that maybe, just maybe, he was in over his head. Unspeakable! Harry vs. Dante.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of the work you may recognize, including Harry Potter, Devil May Cry, or Super Soakers

Warnings: Mild religious reference, mild cursing, sporadic updates, unbetad

"A wizard, huh?" Dante was still a bit skeptical. Being one of the few demon hunters out there as he was, he'd seen all sorts of characters, as a matter of fact he probably shot all of them at one point or another too, but he was pretty damn sure that, not once, had he ever seen a bonafide witc-wizard (Kid got awfully prissy when he let his tongue slip the first time). The boy opened his mouth again, about to go into what he could assume was yet another lengthy explanation consisting of more obscure, nonsense terms such as "muggle", "focus", and "blast-ended skrewts" and something about taking him in. Briefly, Dante considered to just make him eat lead now, end both their miseries - because honestly this guy was missing more than a few cards already, probably tossed out the entire deck, and drag his corpse back to the other crazy who was screw loose enough to hire a hit on a member of said mythical, _fictional_, subhuman species (He would have gotten the express tour right through the front door as soon as he said "wizard" had he not already placed a hefty bag of strange gold coins on top of last weeks pizza box). Fairy tale creatures he'd only ever heard of in fables.

Completely unlike demons who, unfortunately for the many mortals that inhabited the surface world, not so unfortunate for pro-capitalism, demon bounty hunter Dante, did in fact exist. He stuck enough through with Rebellion to know that. Heck, it wasn't a half bad idea, turning the 'wizard' in. The poor guy even shared the same name as his client's target. So if by some chance he was the target, goodie for Dante. If not, well...he could always claim it was an easy mistake to make what with the lack of details he had on the guy in the first place. The client hadn't been to clear with the specifics. But in the end, he settled for humoring the boy. He blamed on the fact he was just too much of a good guy. "All right then, I'd like a little proof here."

The boy merely raised one refined eyebrow at that, as if the request were to general or plebian.

Damn Brits, all of them. Always a bit too uppity for his taste. Kind of like Vergil, except they'd already gotten over the megalomania phase and weren't quite as self-righteous, but they ran a pretty damn close race. Waving his arms about as if it would help give better explanation, he clarified, "You know, poof! Do the old pull-a-rabbit-out-of-a-hat trick or something."

No one would blame him for being more than a little shocked when he got just what he asked for, sort of. The boy lazily waved a hand in the air and _magically_ poofed up a snow white bunny, in a flurry of cotton pink smoke at that. Then whilst yawning, as if an afterthought, conjured up regal, black top hat, out of fucking nowhere might he mention, and flipped it upside down. It was with almost touch of reverence in his manner as he set it carefully atop a red clothed, ebony table (and where the hell did the table come from?), and finished his little performance by deliberately stuffing the poor bunny in the hat just to pull it right back out a second after.

"Happy?"

Well fuck.

~X~

On the other side of this encounter, unbeknownst to Dante, the wizard was sharing similar thoughts, _bloody_ fuck, as he proceeded to banish the little setup he had magicked. He hadn't the slightest clue what to do now. The mission was simple. Had been simple, he corrected himself mentally. Locate the demon hybrid and annihilate it with as little chaos as can be had when facing off with such a high-powered, malevolent entity. This particular demon in fact had earned an unofficial (unofficial as the very existence of demons was only recognized by the Unspeakable division of The Ministry) danger level of XXXXX plus by The Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and was referenced once in Newt Scamanders _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ before The Ministry promptly seized the original copy and eradicated the entirety of the book containing even a single mention of the word _"demon"_ and in effect, wiping those pages existence from every book printed after. The books as they were being conveniently spelled self-updating and to be in accordance with the original. After all, if word were to spread that the demons were returning, the likes of which the wizarding world had not seen in little over two millennia, there would be widespread panic. Perhaps worse than that under Voldemort's brief reign, for at least he had been comfortably mortal according to prophesy, and proved undoubtedly to be so in the end, and enough reason not to go about initiating the mass genocide of the entire wizarding race or worse. Demons, on the other hand, held no such compunctions and would share no common sympathy of race.

But this…man – it did not feel right to refer to him as anything else, to call him a monster – was nothing like he had expected. It was certainly not his human form that threw him off. Many demons did a far more subtle job at disguising as humans; in fact some were downright dull. No, it was…

Sardonic clapping interrupted his musings and he could not help playing along for a bit with a sweeping, bow for his single man, standing ovation.

"Bravo, how long have you've been working on that one, kid?"

No, he could not bring himself to group him with the monstrosities he was often assigned to slay. It was probably the man's shear his force of personality. While he could be just as irritating as the worst of the demons, and chat up with the best of them, he could almost pass off as an ordinary, middle aged man. A goddamn prick he may be, but at the very least he was a very human-seeming goddamn prick.

"Now, can you be a little more…," he twirled a finger around, "original!"

The wizard made no motion to honor the request.

"Or if you could pull that stick out your ass I'd be even more impressed." The silver-haired man suggested whimsically. The calculating look his eyes took on belied some of his laidback attitude but not entirely. The black hair youth could not help eyeing the end of the guns holstered at the man's back nor the giant sword that peaked over his shoulder.

The wizard wasn't so easily intimidate though and merely sighed pinching the bridge of his nose and ignoring the jibe having other concerns. He would not allow himself to be provoked so easily. "Look here, I'm not a bloody circus troupe!" But he could not help a letting a little of his irritation show. The man must have had a gift. He'd been working on his control and Occlumancy for since his time in Hogwarts. Perhaps it was Hermione and Ron said though, perhaps he'd been overworking himself again. The long trip to the small, abandoned village must have frayed on him. He couldn't ride his godfather's old bike here nor use any other means of magical transportation as it would attract too many demons that had recently taken residence here.

"If it's a magic show you want, why don't you hitch the next flight to Vegas or…" He trailed off, unable to finish remembering that the man would not be able to go if he, the Unspeakable, decided to complete the mission he was sent out to do. And he was confident that if he decided to do so, the hybrid would never be able make that trip one way or the other. Demon extermination required both the death of the body and the complete eradication of the "soul", spirit being the more technical term. There could be no afterlife for demons as they would merely return to their common place of birth, hell, and rise again once they amassed more of their satanic, corrupted power, emerging from the sulfuric depths more vengeful than ever. He had made the mistake of allowing one to return to home during his rookie years, too squeamish of the mere thought of wiping out an existence so permanently. It managed to gather a small army in time for Fleur and Bill's anniversary they decided to celebrate with the family in the Burrow. Least to say that was the last he had seen of either of them.

Sobering from the thought, he straightened himself out, careful to appear like he was not going to have an aneurysm. He could not help wistfully, thinking back on times where everything could be colored black in white. At least with Death Eaters and Voldemort, did Harry understand where he stood. Being the Boy-Who-Lived and symbol of the Light kind and Voldemort being simply a psychotic, Dark Lord obsessing over bringing about the end of the life of a young child's life, his life, a being for whom no sympathy could be felt for nor afforded. As he grew up such absoluteness would no longer exist, the world had mature alongside him and become gray with age.

Now, how best should he go about judging the m-hybrid that stood before him?

"Really now? You coulda fooled me." Harry was treated to another one of the hybrid's infuriating grins and he could not help but bristle and grit his teeth, his fingers twitching to grasp the familiar weight of his wand. Then he took a calming breath and reminded himself he wasn't a kid anymore; he didn't become one of the youngest Unspeakables in centuries at twenty one on the merit of just one fluke cast Expelliarmus. Though if anyone thought to ask about the last bit he would claim in was an inner instinct, which it sort of was, granted by some divine higher power that had led him rushing in which most would attribute to the Hallows. He himself never knew the real reason as the shock of being alive never wore off till two weeks after he woken up in the hospital wing.

The man crossed his hands behind his head carelessly. "So, what was your name again…Harry?" He looked as if he were to make a rather poor pun before he thought better of it and continued on. "You wouldn't happen to be a certain 'Mister' Harry Potter would you?" And damn did he look tempted to break his brief and uncharacteristic display of tact right then and there. But Harry ignored his struggle.

The target knew who he was. But how could he know? He had destroyed the any demon that had ever been connected to the anniversary incident. And sure, he was famous, but he no longer looked as he once had. Gone were the lanky arms, malnourished body, and taped bottle cap shaped glasses. What was left was a confident, grown built man, unrecognizable for who he once was, with lithe muscles and a light tan (the likes of which had been impossible to achieve between being locked in by the Dursleys and the customary school cloak uniform), a result from many his many travels on missions and a few well deserved vacation trips to the exotic city of Atlantis which, contrary to popular muggle belief, was not sunk and turned to ruins but floating loftily on the clouds over the Atlantic. Of course, it was all in good fun that the ruling king decided once in awhile to sink the grand city a couple times over the course of his stay. It was a tradition his highness said. More like a running inside joke and a way to make even a simple walk outside ones home plenty wet and a perilous venture of itself, Harry thought. Harry had not known his first stay and when he finally woke from a long night of- well he rather not think about it-, he figured a nice stroll to the park would be nice, peaceful even. Imagine his surprise when he opened the door one second and realize he was drowning the next. Rather unpleasant, he could assure you.

The third time around, having mastered the water-repelling charm, he braved another trip out in the temporarily sunken city, only to encounter a giant squid. And no, it was not of the friendly, nor comparatively mouse-sized variety that Hogwarts housed in its lake. The fist fight with a rather drunken mermaid – or merman, he had not been too sure what with all the hair coupled with fact he had a rather blurry memory of the event – was another story entirely.

Yes, Harry was a new man. And no one besides those who personally knew him, and had not died in the war, or the Unspeakables, which out of them only a quarter of which knew who they had hired, knew of what he looked like. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, he had already died. He had been 'dead' since the day had killed Voldemort. Did that mean there was a leak? A traitor?

There was no use playing coy as the silver-haired hybrid must have caught the moment he had tensed up. He numbly nodded.

~X~

The moment he mentioned the kid's name, he knew it could only go downhill from there. As soon as he finished saying 'Potter' the boy was on the defensive, unconsciously slipping into an odd battle stance of which Dante had never seen before. Was he preparing for a fist fight? Or did it have something to do with the odd sticks he was carrying. The stance seemed to favor easy access to the one on his left side, but he could just as easily pull out the one holster in his sleeve with a flick of his wrist. Either way it wasn't anything the demon hunter couldn't handle. Slowly letting an easy grin slide over his face, he tried to diffuse the situation. Later, he would guiltlessly concede to himself, that he probably didn't try very hard.

"Heard your name if a few bars," Dante said in vague way of answer to the unspoken question written all over Harry's face. Though when he said a few…actually he was pretty certain there wasn't a bar that hadn't heard the damn name in passing. He looked at the kid carefully. Boy band? He had all the right material but too much attitude if that was possible. A movie star? No, there hadn't been a movie he hadn't seen during the long 'peaceful' periods between jobs. A soap opera man? He looked the part of a drama queen and he seriously tossed the thought around his head a bit but no. Lady would have mentioned him. Then a war veteran? He vaguely remembered the client mentioning some sort of war in passing, but quickly tossed the idea aside, too soft looking. Nah, he must be an-

"Who hired you?" The boy snapped out, stick drawn and aim carefully at his head. Quick guy, Dante hadn't even noticed when he had begun to draw it.

"Sorry, can't say. I don't give out clientele names, company policy and all." In mock regret he added, "Real kicker that."

Harry sighed in frustration, "Tell me or I'll- Screw it. Stupefy!" Thrown off by the abrupt change of tactics, Dante had been certain the kid would have lasted a little longer before ditching his diplomatic approach, and the rather nonsensical word, the red beam of light missed his nose by a hair's width and nearly tripped backwards. The dodge was executed with less graceful than he would have normally preferred.

"Anyone tell you you've got a bit of a short fuse? Really think you need some help with that. Might meet the wrong sort of people," in a flash Rebellion was out, "and then what would your parents think?"

A blast of lightening hit the ground where he had stood not seconds before. Not much of a talker then, he figured and let loose a few experimental shots. They deflected away a few feet away from their target. A light shimmer as the bullets collide betrayed the transparent barrier that surrounded the wizard. Following up with a light flick of the flimsy piece of wood the boy wielded, the ground seemed to slip under him and he was forced to arch back into a flip, barely twisting out of the way of yet another blue bolt rushed to meet him midair. Didn't take a genius to know long distance wouldn't work out, so he'd just have to close the gap.

"My old lady's got better aim than you did." And boy did he mean it, for both of the deadly divas. As expected, the casting got just a little sloppier allowing him push off the ground and rush the kid. He managed a few playful swipes before good conscious kicked in letting the poor guy back off for a breather. Movement wasn't too bad but he figured as much. He could smell the overwhelming stench blood of slain demons, perhaps even humans, on him, quite a few actually, and several other scents he could not quite place. He wondered if he'd be able to guess it.

He raised a sword to deflect the clear, amorphous blades that threatened to cleave him in half. They splashed rather unimpressively against the flat of his blade and Dante couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, "Water? Lemme guess, you're gonna try killing me with a Super Soaker next, aren't you?" Not even Holy Water! Not that it would have been of much help anyways, half-demons were, for the most part, pure enough not to be seriously damaged. And here he thought the wizard had been doing so well until then.

The wizard smiled sardonically, "I could, couldn't I?" Despite the context of the conversation and the joking tone the wizard took on, he knew from the look in the boy's eyes that for one ridiculous moment, the kid had given it serious thought. "You're kidding right?"

He pulled his sword down in a downward strike only for the water to shift and rush against the flat again, this time producing enough pressure to guide the blade to the far right. Another blade of water solidifying into ice swooped in on his side before he could twist Rebellion away. The kid probably expected a different reaction but not the head butt and so fell back a bit in surprise. Having lost concentration, the blades fell away into mere puddles on the cobblestone streets and Dante pulled back up his sword.

He was about to make another, none too flattering remark when a hale of pigeons came converging on him, dive bombing him from every direction. He put two and two together, and knew that only this kid could have been responsible for the sudden avian barrage. And from what he could see between the feathered madness, he could make out the kid brushing himself off as he struggled to wave the birds away. While being half demon as he was rendered the attack relatively harmless and minor problem, it made it no less an irritation and he was itching to just pull out Ebony and Ivory. But he was not so much a bastard as to shoot them down so could only wait the storm out.

A few moments later, he noticed a small gap in their formation, took his chance and leapt out with as few feathers lost as possible. Turning midair once he'd cleared the birds and he let out a rain of shots, this time succeeding in nicking the black-haired wizard on the shoulder. Landing smoothly on the ground he sent a bench flying toward the man and fired a few more rounds for good measure. He let out a low, appreciative whistle as he saw the bench stop mid-flight to block the bullets and couldn't help but wonder how many of those he could juggle?

He was about to find out.

~X~

Harry found that, if he really, _really_ needed to, he could juggle around seven benches and still manage to dodge three bullets out of five. It was just his luck, or the devil's will, that those that hit were more superficial than life threatening. He twitched a finger just in time to block the eighth bench with the seventh and twitched another to transfigure the fifth one into a Labrador retriever and sent it running off. It didn't get very far before the silver-haired man coolly gunned it down having finally figured out the transfigured creatures returned to their prior, unanimated states, if a little worse from wear and with a few more holes.

He quickly shifted to the side to dodge tossed skull-hilt sword before putting up his forearms to block the punch. The force was buffered by enchanted bracers but the magic was still not enough to prevent him from lifting clear off the ground and dropping his wand in the process. He had just enough time to whistle a short note he learned from Fawkes to summon Gryffindor's Sword and bring it up to parry the incoming blade and was knocked farther off again and through the glass window of an abandoned pet store. Harry supposed this was his just desserts for the Labrador and the pigeons...and the cockatiel, and the…well yeah, better not to continue thinking on it. Pulling himself out of the bags of kibble and banishing the stray bits of straw that caught on to his flyaway hair, he made for a quick motion to summon his wand. Only to find himself made uncomfortable familiar with the business end of the demon sword. His eyes roved around for a way to get buy some time and get past it.

Demons had always been tricky creatures to deal with for even the most ardent of hunter wizards, primarily due to their great immunity to much of the lesser magicks. Only old, primal and elemental magic would work. Brute force magic could work, if only indirectly, as well if the former were not within ones repertoire and was much a favorite of classical sixteenth century wizards. It was only the latter that he could do with a wand but it was also the one that, without a very strong intent behind it, would most easily crumble in the presence of a demonic entity. That left the Elder Wand. Question was would he be quick enough? The decision was made for him.

The demon backed up and turned away, tossing a red piece of paper over his shoulder. "Feel free to call if you need some help with that little anger issue of yours." A final wave of the hybrid's red overcoat bid him farewell as he turned out the shops door. Harry quickly went to follow only to find the streets empty. He checked the nearby alley but only saw a dead end. Bloody demons, they always did make quick getaways. He walked back a little sullenly back in the store and picked up what he found was indeed a calling card. Above the number were three words:

"Devil May Cry…"

-------------

**AN:** Need to work on my writing so if anyone can give suggestions it would be appreciated. Thank you!


End file.
